Next to Normal
by ahodgepodgeofthings
Summary: Vader found Padmé as she gave birth to the twins, and took them all to live with him in Coruscant. Padmé's been little more than a prisoner in their apartment for the past nineteen years, forced to watch Leia descend into the Dark Side. Luke's joined the Rebellion in secret, and she's worried for him. But not all is as it seems.
1. Chapter 1: Prelude

Padmé looked up as the front door opened and her son came through it, shutting it quietly behind him. She shot up as quickly as she could, running over to him. "Are you all right? How did the mission go?"

Her son smiled at her, whispering finally, "It was a success." His grin both made her heart soar and ache all at once; he was the spitting image of Anakin, and he reminded her of better times every time she saw him.

A sudden noise came from nearby, and Padmé stiffened. "Go to your room," she whispered. "I'll cover for you."

That bright grin was back on his face, "You're the best, Mom."

Padme kissed his cheek quickly before shooing him away, smiling brightly until the familiar sound of a respirator filling the room made her stiffen.

"Padmé?" The deep, mechanical voice held a hint of concern, and a hint of wariness. "Who were you talking to?"

She whipped around and tilted her head up to look at him where his eyes should be, insides squirming uncomfortably and chin cocking defiantly, meeting what she imagined to be his gaze evenly. "Myself. Same as always."

Her husband said nothing for a moment, before finally asking, "What are you doing out of bed at this hour?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"...Ah."

Padme glared up at him, folding her arms across her chest. "And what are you doing up so early?"

"...I heard voices."

"Well, it's just me," she felt her shoulders slump suddenly as a wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over her. She sighed, massaging her temples in a vain attempt to cure the ever-persistent recurring headache she always seemed to have. "Look, I'm sorry...I'm just...I'll just go back to bed..."

She turned slowly, wearily clutching her arms almost protectively to her chest, and, leaving her husband behind her, began the trudge back to her bedroom, forcing herself to block the memories that had come abruptly running back.


	2. Chapter 2: Just Another Day

Padmé heaved a breath. She'd come dangerously close to giving in to the darkness and despair of her surroundings for a moment there, and when that happened, bad things tended to follow. Her family was perfect. They were fine. They loved each other, and that was all that mattered.

And Padmé truly did love them.

She smiled fondly at the thought of her son, though it became to fade as she considered her husband...even if Anakin wasn't the same, he was still her husband...despite everything...

The smile was wiped entirely from her face as she considered Leia, her daughter, and Luke's twin sister. Her daughter was brilliant, of course; she'd inherited the best of her parents. But still...there was a darkness in her that certainly wasn't helped by her father's training...

Padmé shook her head to clear it. They loved each other. And she loved them. That was all that mattered, she told herself firmly.

They were a perfect family.

Repeating this in her mind and willing herself to believe it, Padmé continued the trek to her room. On the way, she frowned upon seeing the light to Leia's room still on. She knocked lightly and poked her head in. "Leia?" She called.

Her daughter looked up at her with tired eyes, rubbing them exhaustedly as she looked up at Padmé expectantly. Padmé fumbled slightly here. "I saw your light was on...it's awfully early...is everything all right?"

"It's fine," Leia said, averting her eyes from her mother's probing gaze. Padmé frowned.

"Everything's fine," Leia insisted. Padmé quirked an eyebrow at her.

Leia sighed. "Listen, I'm just trying to meditate."

Padmé sighed. "Is this one of your father's assignments? I swear, I'm going to tell him to lay off you...This is too much for you..." She turned to go find him, but stopped when Leia called out.

"No, no—I just—I just do this when I can't sleep. You can go back to bed, Mom. It's fine. I'm fine." She tried to give her mother the most reassuring face she could, but she knew it was a failure, so she was surprised when Padmé abruptly nodded and turned, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. Leia sighed and massaged her temples exhaustedly.

She wasn't sure how much more of this she could take.

She'd had the same nightmare every day for a week now. And she really didn't want to tell her dad because she knew he'd freak out. He was paranoid like that. Granted, he had good reason to be, but all the same, she didn't want to worry him.

Despite it all, she still loved him, after all. Though she wasn't quite sure why. She honestly had no idea what she was to him; did he really love her or was she just a tool to him? An object? A possession?

She often wondered what it was she meant to him. And to her mother. Especially to her mother. Most days it felt like Padmé could barely look at her, and she didn't know what she'd done.

She sighed, officially giving up on trying to meditate. The dream was already slipping from her grasp again, her conflicted emotions over her family muddling her thoughts.

She knew she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Might as well get ready for the day...

It was when Padmé thought about Luke that she felt most like her old self.

Despite everything, her son was still fighting. He was still in the rebellion, rebelling against the Dark Side, against Palpatine and his father's wishes.

He was her shining ray of hope, her son. Luke. He'd inherited the best of her, and yet nothing from Anakin. At least personality-wise. Looks-wise, he was the spitting image of his father.

As Padmé marveled at her son, her daughter was forcing herself not to cry in the other room.

To Padmé, Luke was everything she'd hoped and dream...

To Leia, he was an ideal she'd never live up to...

As Leia ached, Padmé wept for joy.

It was a few hours later now, and though there was no light to indicate otherwise from inside his hyperbaric chamber, Darth Vader knew. With a sigh, he pressed a button and emerged from it, sitting for a moment and listening as the sound of his respirator filled the room. For whatever reason, the longing for some kind of human touch, specifically the longing to hold his wife was stronger than ever. He missed her so very much, though he would never tell her otherwise.

He stood suddenly as her light footsteps suddenly tiptoed in from the hall. Deciding he'd greet her, he used the Force to open his door and stepped forward, guilt surging him as she jumped and clutched at her heart from the sudden movement.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you," he rumbled.

"Oh...that's okay," Padmé smiled uneasily, looking up to gaze into the eye sockets of his mask.

"Did you...sleep well?" He asked, shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to the other, unsure of the direction this conversation was going.

"Mm," she murmured in response, tucking a stray curl behind her ears.

"I know you got up this morning...I was worried it was a rough night for you," he continued, watching her intensely for any negative reaction, wanting desperately to hold some sort of civil conversation with his wife.

His heart sank as her eyes widened suddenly and she rapidly averted her eyes from him. "It was fine." She was shutting down. He was losing her...

"Well...I'm late. I'll probably leave soon." He cursed himself mentally for bringing up the meeting with Palpatine. That was the last thing she needed reminding of.

Sure enough, Padmé's eyes hardened at this and she nodded curtly, walking into the kitchen to presumably ask C-3P0 to start making breakfast.

Vader heaved a heavy sign. He missed how they used to be. Things had been so much easier then.

He wondered whether Leia was up yet; she was needed at the meeting too, for whatever reason. It made him slightly nervous, in fact; it was rare that his master requested his daughter's presence as well; he'd typically left her training to him. He hoped this wasn't a sign of something to come...

He pushed the thought from his mind, instead allowing his mind to drift back to Padmé, as it nearly always did. But with Leia lingering on his mind, it allowed for a heightened sense of determination.

He needed to hold this family together. He was as well aware as anyone that they were all teetering on the edge, and he wanted desperately for them to be normal and happy, just like any other family.

There'd been a time it had seemed like they were, when everything was wonderful, even in spite of everything he'd done and everything he'd become...when the children were young...

He shoved the thought from his mind. Those times were over. They had to make something new from the remnants of their broken family. They needed to fix things.

He paused as he heard Padmé's quiet laughter at something Threepio had done and felt his heart swell with some old familiar emotion.

He knew it was hard on both of them, and on Padmé most of all. She deserved better than the life she'd received, he thought suddenly with a twinge of guilt.

He'd make it right for her. Somehow.

Meanwhile, Padmé sat and watched out the window as the sun rose in the sky and allowed herself a small smile as she basked in its rays. It was mornings like these she could almost pretend...

She smiled as she listened to the sound of her son's soft hums in the nearby bedroom. His was nearest to the kitchen, and she liked to listen to him. He always hummed as he dressed for the day, so she could always tell when he'd woken up.

It was bittersweet how much he reminded her of Anakin.

Speaking of which, she stiffened as the sound of her husband's respirator filled the room, announcing his arrival.

She heaved a breath and turned to offer him a small smile, a gesture of peace. She didn't want to fight today.

She was tired of them being so different from every other family; her children deserved better than a grief-stricken mother and a machine for a father.

So she forced herself to smile wider and gestured for him to sit next to her at the coffee table. Just as he took his seat, Leia walked into the room, watching them warily.

Padmé patted the seat on the other side of her. "Come, sit," she gave her daughter a warm smile.

Leia took her seat warily, eyes still glued to her mother as though worried. Padmé sighed and looked away, unsure of what to do.

She looked up as Luke appeared in the hallway, looking down uncertainly at the table, specifically at his father.

He paused for a moment before whirling around and heading back into his bedroom, mouthing an apology at her. Padmé sighed and buried her head in her hands for a moment to compose herself.

Threepio called from the kitchen, "Wash up, everyone! Breakfast is almost ready!"

Leia shook her head and headed for the sink, knowing Threepio wouldn't serve her anything otherwise. Vader sat awkwardly in his chair, knowing washing was pointless because not only was he unable to eat, but it would damage his suit. Padmé patted him gently on the shoulder before heading to the hallway under the guise of going to the bathroom to wash her hands. In actuality, she was going to talk to Luke.

She met him in the hallway.

"I see you're out of your room, finally..."

Luke crossed his arms and bit his lips, eyes shifting uneasily in the direction of the kitchen. "I don't wanna talk to him, sorry, Mom..."

"I know, I know..." Padmé sighed as she went to the sink to wash her hands. "I just wish you two would try to get along..."

"It's not me, Mom! You know it's not me," Luke insisted.

"I know..."

"If he'd just look at me," he muttered in frustration. "Even look at me, for just a minute! I'm his son, I don't know why he ignores me..."

Padmé finished washing and dried her hands before kissing him lightly on the cheek. "I know, sweetheart, and I'm sorry."

She headed down the hallway, calling softly after her, "I'm guessing you won't be at breakfast?"

Leia stepped into the hallway suddenly, pointedly ignoring her brother.

Luke rolled his eyes. "Morning, sunshine," he said sarcastically, before whirling around and heading back into his room.

Leia didn't acknowledge this, instead directing her question at her mother.

"You coming to breakfast, Mom?"

Padmé turned her gaze on her daughter. "Ah. Did your father send you to fetch me?"

"It's been almost ten minutes, Mom. We were starting to get worried."

"Oh yes, of course. Of course. Sorry, you know how I am in the mornings..."

Leia allowed her mother to go first, trailing slightly in her wake like a shadow. She bit her lip, worried.

But then her mother turned to look at her and smiled brilliantly, and all sense of worry evaporated from Leia's mind. Today was a good day. A good day.

Darth Vader acknowledged his daughter with a slight tilt of his head. "Leia."

"Father," she responded, tilting her head in acknowledgement as well. Padmé sat down at the table, turning to her mug of caf.

As quietly as possible, he asked his daughter. "How is she?"

"She's good," Leia said, looking up at him. "Better than most days, I think. Good."

Vader nodded his head and strode forward, pleased. He sat down next to his wife, and Leia took her seat on her other side. Threepio bustled forward, placing silverware on the table at Padmé's and Leia's places.

Finally, at long last, he set down the plates of food, and the two women began to eat.

"You'll want to hurry, Leia," Vader said quietly to his daughter.

"Oh, let her eat, Ani," Padmé said good-naturedly, causing the whole room to pause.

It had been ages since she'd used her old nickname for her husband.

Luke winked at her as he finally entered the room, gathering his jacket and saber; he hadn't been invited to the meeting today, so he was presumably going to train. Padmé laughed at his efforts to avoid being noticed by the rest of the family.

She was so busy watching him she barely noticed Vader's tentative reach for her hand, and when she did, she clasped it, smiling at their family. Her husband, her son, and her daughter. It was as it should be.

And then suddenly, she remembered, and the smile wiped from her face.

She gasped and withdrew her hand from her husband's, prompting Vader to clench it into a fist.

Luke frowned sympathetically at her, studying her as though he were worried about her.

"Mom...?" Leia asked hesitantly.

"Don't, Leia," Vader snapped suddenly, standing. "We'd best be on our way."

Luke glowered at his father, and Padmé looked up at him, suddenly fearful of what he'd do when he saw him standing there...

"Mom..." Leia looked down at her mother as she stood, concern flickering across her face.

"Leia, leave your mother alone," Vader snapped, causing Padmé to flinch. She stared down at her silverware, blinking back tears as memories flashed rapidly through her mind.

"We need to get going, it is not good to keep my master waiting..."

Their wedding day, pure bliss...

"But you're sure she's okay?"

Laughing with Ahsoka and Obi-Wan, concealing their marriage all the while...

"She is functioning. We need to go."

"It's not like you to be so...so..."

Fighting desperately in the Senate for what was right, even as the Clone Wars raged all around her...

"So what, Leia?"

The sheer terror and joy upon discovery of her pregnancy...

"I don't know. So...uncaring? So...un-obsessive about her?"

The horror of Anakin's turn, the terrifying feeling of the one she loved choking her, insisting she'd betrayed him...

"Enough of this. We need to go."

The birth. Anakin...no, Darth Vader barging in soon afterwards, healing her using the Force just as she was slipping away...crying against it, sobbing, pleading for her babies...Darth Vader looking down in astonishment at his newborn twins...

"...Fine."

Her anger, her rage, her misery at her husband for being so terrible...for fighting against she believed in...that he'd once believed in, too...

"Goodbye, Mother."

The odd period of bliss where she'd forced herself to willfully ignore everything that was happening, where they'd raised their babies in happiness together, in spite of everything, in spite of her husband's new appearance, in spite of his darkness, they'd raised their children with love...

"...Goodbye, Padmé..."

And then...a horrible, gut-wrenching pain coursed through Padmé suddenly, so terrible that she fell to the floor, dragging the silverware along with her. She crouched above it, shivering, holding it protectively to her chest almost as if it were a baby...no, no, no, she forced the memories away, whimpering. She didn't want to think...

"Padmé!"

Anakin, no, Vader was at her side in an instant, touching her gently with gloved hands. "Padmé...?"

Padmé threw him off, curling into herself.

They couldn't...she couldn't do this, but she had to...

They were the perfect family...

They loved each other...

No, no, no. "Don't touch me!" She shrieked at her husband, burrowing deeper into the ground, wanting desperately for the past nineteen years of her life to have been some terrible nightmare...

No...she couldn't do this, she couldn't cower like a child.

She was Senator Padmé Amidala, former queen of Naboo...

She was a mother, she was the mother to Luke...to Leia...she couldn't do this, she needed to function.

"Padmé..." Vader reached out to pull her into his embrace and Padmé shrieked and pushed him away, gripping the fallen silverware so tightly her fingers turned white.

And then an idea came to her.

She allowed herself a single shuddering sob before allowing Vader to reach out and pull her into his chest, where she shivered reluctantly against his embrace.

"It's okay, Padmé...I'm here..." his deep voice, so unlike Anakin's, rumbled, the hiss of the respirator surrounding her, overwhelming her...

"No!" She screamed, grabbing the kitchen knife and driving it forward into his chest, stabbing him repeatedly with murderous intent.

This man was the source of all the pain in her life...all of it...she hated him, she wanted him dead...he was killing people, hurting her children...!

But Vader did nothing in response, so naturally Padmé assumed she'd killed him...she was holding his lightsaber, wasn't she? Or was it her blaster...

"Padmé..." Vader moaned, and tears pricked her eyes.

"Father?" Leia looked down hesitantly at him, Burt Padmé barely noticed her.

"Go on ahead, Leia...tell Palpatine I had to tend to your mother...We'll have to reschedule."

Padmé did nothing but heave a dry sob, continuing to stab her husband in the chest...that is, until she caught sight of Luke. "...Mom?" He asked hesitantly, looking down at her with worry on his face, looking so like his father...

The butter knife fell to the floor with a clatter, and Padmé buried her face in her hands and sobbed even harder than before.

"Go," Darth Vader told his daughter firmly.

Blinking blearily through her tears, Padmé watched her daughter go, Luke following behind hesitantly, keeping his concerned eyes trained on hers as he left.

Vader wrapped his arms around his wife, embracing her, patting her awkwardly on the back.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered, even though she wasn't.

"I know."

He didn't.

"Let's go see the medic. See if he can get you anything more to help..."

Padmé nodded and allowed him to pull her to feet. She didn't see any better options.

She allowed her husband to support her weight as he led her out the door, still reeling. In spite of everything, she was still reliant on him. Dependent on him, despite it all.

She wished so very desperately that she could hate him.3


	3. Chapter 3: Everything Else

Leia heaved a breath and exhaled, seizing hold of her emotions and letting them flood the room with a scream, lurching forward and meeting the training droid's flurry of strikes with every thrust of her lightsaber blade.

She refused to let tears overcome her, so she focused on her rage, all of her pent-up rage, years and years of it. With yet another primal scream, she leapt forward as the droid came at her again, now armed with four lightsabers.

She must've been doing this for hours, for it to have gained so many arms, she realized. She was coming very close to beating this exercise, something she'd been aiming to do for quite some time now.

She thrust the red blade of her lightsaber forward, then did a backflip to avoid the droid from hitting her. It came at her again, and she leapt high into the air over it, thrusting forward to stab it through. Unfortunately, it met her and nearly grazed her cheek. It would've, if she hadn't leapt backward to dodge it.

Leia grunted, wiping sweat off her brow and running forward, trying to push everything out of her mind except for her rage.

But unfortunately, it was hard to dwell on an emotion without experiencing the memory it stemmed from.

Palpatine had told her he wanted to take her training into his own hands. He felt her father was being too soft on her, and that he needed to take the reins, to make her stronger than before.

When Leia had relayed this information to her father, he'd been too distracted to even be bothered, nodding curtly as he quickly ended her holocall, anxiously awaiting news of her mother from the clinic, where he was still waiting. Not for the first time.

Leia gritted her teeth, dodging yet another strike from the training droid. Usually she could block these memories out, hard as they were. As much as she tapped into her rage to use the Force, she didn't like the other emotions that came with it.

Training was usually a good way to block them out.

Honestly, she was glad to be training under Palpatine. She'd see less of her parents then. She'd get stronger, strong enough to be given real missions, to not always be attached to her father or at home with her mother.

Most of the time, she didn't feel things. And that was how she liked it. Rage was all she needed. Rage and an icy chill. She'd learned long ago that happiness was not an option, so she might as well keep striving for perfection. It was as close as she'd get to it, she supposed.

Self-satisfaction.

Leia heaved a breath, panting as the droid came at her yet again. She swore loudly before moving to run her lightsaber through it, but it foiled her yet again.

She groaned in irritation. This was taking far too long...

She heaved a breath and summoned more rage, more anger.

Images of her mother flickered through her mind and she gritted her teeth, shoving aside the feelings of neglect, of loneliness, the years of fear and sadness...

No. No, she couldn't feel that. There was only white-hot anger. Red...hot tears trickled down her cheek and Leia cried out in shame, wiping them away.

She screamed and lashed out at the droid, seeing red. She would never feel like that again. There was only anger...there was no room for anything else or anyone else in her life but the Empire...devotion to making her Empire the best it could possibly be...the Dark Side was the way.

She would keep peace and stability and maintain the Empire her Master had created...it was the right thing to do. All her feelings were irrelevant except her anger. Training under Palpatine would make her better...

She wouldn't miss her father. She didn't feel anything for her, as he didn't feel anything for her. All he cared about was her mother. And all her mother cared about was her brother.

...She was alone.

"NO!" Leia cried out, but the thought had already taken hold of her and she stumbled, memories flooding her mind...

Her mother crying out for her brother, turning away from her, ignoring her...training with her father, the only time he paid her any attention...Leia flexed her mechanical hand at this, a painful reminder of the time he'd lost his temper with her during training...never again, never again would she make him angry...That was the only time she truly feared him. The other times she just hated him.

She used all of her rage to push aside these emotions and pressed forward, nearly stabbing the droid through...until she became distracted by the sudden sensation of another presence in the room. An unfamiliar presence.

Leia frowned, losing concentration. The droid surged forward and she groaned in annoyance, trying to ignore the presence.

But it was too distracting.

She grunted and used the Force to power off the droid, whipping around, lightsaber blazing.

It was a stormtrooper. But not one she recognized. Not one of the regular guards they had in their home. "Hey," he greeted.

Leia glared. "Who are you?"

"What do you mean?" The man responded. "I'm a guard."

"You're not one of the usual ones. The usual ones know not to disturb me while I'm training," Leia responded.

"Well, I'm new," he shrugged.

Leia frowned. "New to being a guard or being a stormtrooper in general? I've never seen someone with such poor conduct..."

The trooper held up his hands. "I just saw what you were doing in here when I was passing by and got intrigued...I. I've never seen anything so...amazing."

Leia laughed, genuinely. His naïveté was...endearing. She withdrew her lightsaber and put it back in her belt, dropping her guard. "I'm guessing you haven't met my father."

"Your father?" The trooper questioned. Leia froze.

"My father?" She questioned, feeling ice replace the warmth she'd felt towards him previously. "You mean to tell me that you don't even know who my father is?"

"Uh...should I?"

Wrong answer. Leia withdrew her lightsaber just as the trooper started running. She reached out with the Force, dragging him to her. He cried out as she slammed him to the ground, pinning him with the Force and pointing her lightsaber at his throat. "Give me one good reason not to kill you where you stand," she hissed.

The stormtrooper...or whoever he was...struggled, desperately trying to get free. When there was no clear path out, he went limp, sighing and raising his hands in surrender.

Leia frowned. "Who are you?"

The trooper reached up to remove his helmet, revealing a man older than she was, but not old. Probably in his late twenties. He was handsome, she admitted begrudgingly, with blue eyes and brown hair. He grinned dashingly at her.

"Han. Han Solo."

"...Who?"

—-

Padmé frowned as she sat, wrapping her arms protectively around her chest.

The medic had just exited the room and hadn't come back for a few minutes.

It felt like forever.

Finally, the door slid open and in came the medic, Dr. Denique. He was a handsome, middle-aged man with dark eyes. He smiled at her.

"Good news. There may be a better way to help you."

Padmé frowned.

She didn't like the look in his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4: Who's Crazy

Darth Vader sat stiffly in the chair outside of the medbay, hands gripping tightly into fists. It took every ounce of willpower in him not to stand and pace and yell and scream.

He felt like he was going crazy.

Maybe he was.

No, no...he had to hold on. For Padmé.

There wasn't room for two mental breakdowns in this family. And they wanted so desperately to be normal...but how could they?

After everything that had happened...everything he'd _done_...No. Vader shook himself. What was done was done. He was doing the right thing...He had to keep his family together.

Impatiently, he stood in a vain attempt to hear something, anything, that was going on in that room. Surely there had to be some kind of cure? To make things how they once were?

To go back to normal?

...Or as normal as they could ever be. Even back then, she hadn't enjoyed what he'd become.

But at least they'd been happy.

Darth Vader would do anything, _anything _to go back to that brief time of happiness, of perfection that they'd shared, back when the twins were babies...He shook his head. No. He wouldn't think about it.

He just had to recreate what they'd had then and make it _now. _There had to be some way.

He knew there was...

"All right, Padmé, today we're going to start trying a new treatment. We think it will be much more effective than the old. It's been tested and most of the subjects have had positive reactions. All you have to do is mix a drop in with your drink, each day."

Dr. Denique was droning, and Padmé was almost bored out of her wits.

"...Now, it needs to be consistent..."

Padmé cocked her head slightly as she listened to him, his voice fading out as she began to think.

...his hair reminded her of Anakin's. It was sort of a dirty blonde. Shorter than his, but voluminous. His eyes were darker, too, but they were blue nonetheless.

Sometimes, she could almost pretend.

Pretend that she was talking to Anakin, to her husband, when she looked at him. He was the only one who really talked to her about how she felt, who wasn't a machine.

She bit her lip as tears began to prick the corner of her eyes. She scoffed inwardly at herself. Pathetic. Was she really so desperate that she was longing for her husband back?

Well, he was here. She'd never lost him...But he was twisted. A murderer. An imperial. A monster. Everything she despised.

She drifted somewhat, still staring at the medic. The last time she'd seen Anakin as he'd once been...She winced, bringing her hand up to rub her throat. He'd choked her. Choked her. The man she'd loved...

And when he'd found her, what had she done? She'd gone back to him! She'd barely fought him! It had only taken her a few weeks to give into some twisted, domestic bliss fantasy where she ignored everything and lived with her machine-husband and her perfect children...her children...

...what had changed, she pondered suddenly, frowning slightly, that had made her hate him again? Was it...no. It must've been her son's rebellious spirit. She smiled fondly, pushing back any discomfort. She always had him to turn to. She just hoped he wouldn't be found out...

The medic was looking at her in slight concern, so Padmé smiled at him and focused on him to show that he still had her full attention.

Seemingly relieved, he smiled and handed her a bottle, telling her to come back when it was empty.

She smiled and took it, heading out the door.

Hopefully the side effects wouldn't be too terrible this time...

They were terrible.

After successive daily doses, she'd felt more manic than usual and had actually attempted to stab her husband's gloved hand with a fork.

Needless to say, she was back at Dr. Denique's very soon. The next week, in fact.

"I promise you, Padmé, this is going to work. It's just takes time. Now, are you having any other symptoms than...well. Why don't you tell me your symptoms?"

"Um...well. Mania. Headaches, blurry vision...and I can't feel my toes." She wiggled them in her shoes in an attempt to feel them.

"Hm, well, we don't want that—Let's try an altered dosage...we've got a few variations..."

"You already had them on hand?" Padmé questioned mildly, too exhausted to be legitimately concerned.

She spent much of the next week lying on the bed, hearing voices, faint echoes of the past.

"_You're amazing, Padmé, and I wish we could stay together, but I can't, I can't do politics anymore, I want to be an artist..._"

"..._And now that I'm with you again, I'm in agony..."_

"_...You wouldn't understand..."_

"_...Padmé...how could you..."_

Half the time she wasn't sure where the voices were even coming from or who they belonged to, but sometimes she could make out who they were...

"Oh...another modification?" Padmé questioned almost dreamily, taking the liquid in hand at her appointment the next week.

Leia snuck out to the rooftop of the Vader apartment building, smiling as she met Han. He grinned back at her.

"Hey," Leia greeted, sitting down beside him on the building's ledge. "How've you been?"

"You mean in the two weeks since I last saw you?"

"Yeah," Leia shrugged. "Do anything exciting?"

"Well, it wasn't exciting telling my client that I couldn't get their cargo delivered," Han grimaced. "I mean, I understand why...And it's worth it. This," he clarified, "is worth it. I like you, Leia. A lot."

Leia felt giddy for some strange reason, happier than she'd ever felt, at least in a long time. Then she caught herself. "Well. This has been fun," she forced herself to compose herself; she'd gotten what she wanted, and now Han was useless to her.

"Wait—you can't just leave!"

Padmé looked down at her lap, twiddling her fingers idly, actively fighting off a wave of nausea.

It took a great deal of effort to describe her symptoms to Dr. Denique, "I'm nauseated, constipated, can't eat, but somehow gaining weight. I haven't eaten in almost two days now because I can't keep anything down..."

Dr. Denique frowned and nodded, going back to get a different dosage.

Padmé attempted to push the voices out of her head.

The next week was the worst.

The worst of them all.

First, she felt dizzy. The next day, she felt drowsy. The day after, she experienced more headaches and tremors. Then nightmares and seizures.

Not to mention both the diarrhea and the constipation all at once...And the nervous laughter and palpitations.

Anxiousness and anger. Exhaustion and insomnia. Irritability. Nausea, again, and vomiting.

...odd and alarming sexual feelings, which really weren't helped by the fact that her husband was a machine.

Then, suddenly...out of nowhere...suicidal urges.

Padmé dropped the glass to the floor and it shattered.

So she went back the next week to report her symptoms, specifically emphasizing the suicidal urges that concerned her most of all.

She had to live.

For Luke.

Padmé just wanted the whole thing to be over with.

She wanted to get better, but this was making her feel worse; she would willingly take any stable medication other than this; she was tired of being Dr. Denique's guinea pig.

Han and Leia sat very close to one another now, Leia leaning against his shoulder as they looked up at the sky.

Dr. Denique began to write Padmé's symptoms: "Anxiety and depression..."

"Please, Doctor, it's been five weeks now...Isn't there some other medication we can try?"

"This is stupid. I don't know why I'm here," Leia mumbled into Han's shoulder.

"Because you like me."

Leia snorted, "I would've thought that was obvious."

"Well sometimes I can't tell," Han shrugged.

"If I didn't like you, you'd be dead by now," Leia murmured, burying her head deeper into his shoulder.

Han smiled and laid his head on top of hers.

"I don't feel anything...sex-wise. I used to still have...urges, but now I just don't have any feelings at all, and I guess that's convenient but it's strange and I'm so confused."

"...I think we're moving in the right direction."

"What? But I just told you—"

Leia fell asleep that night and woke to find herself in Han's lap; blushing profusely, she quickly apologized and thanked him for a good night, but that she needed to be back in her room by now.

At least her father didn't notice.

Vader paced restlessly throughout the apartment. Padmé didn't seem to be doing any better. All he wanted was his wife back. He loved her so much, more than anything. Why wasn't this helping? He was doing everything he could...

...Maybe it was the suit.

Yes, that had to be it. There was no way she could love him as he was, more machine than man. He missed being able to touch her...But no, no, she'd loved him even with the suit for that brief period of time. What was wrong with him? What was wrong with her? Nothing. Nothing, nothing.

This was a hiccup, a very long hiccup in their relationship, in their marriage.

They would get past this.

She would get better.

He knew she would.

The medic knew what he was doing, these things just took time. They would get through this. They would be a perfect family again. They would be normal, like everyone else.

Padmé couldn't help but stare at Dr. Denique now. He looked so like Anakin...Could he be?

No...But...

She frowned, shaking her head to clear it.

"...Ani?" She asked him tentatively, and he froze.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "Ah, no, Padmé—I'm not your husband. He's waiting outside, remember?"

"Oh..." Padmé frowned confusedly, fighting to clear the fog from her head.

Dr. Denique frowned and jotted something down. "I think we're almost there...There's just a few...kinks...we need to work out," he told her.

She left clutching the new altered dosage, clutching Vader's arm and allowing him to lead her out.

Vader frowned down at his wife. Nevertheless, he held her tightly to him, protectively—and this time, she didn't even flinch.

"I love you," he blurted suddenly.

Padmé smiled faintly at him. He pulled her to him in a tight hug, and she hung limply in his arms, not making any effort to fight back, but not returning the gesture either—he supposed it was better than nothing.

The next week, Dr. Denqiue smiled down at her. "Seventh week. Tell me how you're feeling."

"I don't..." Padmé frowned. "I don't feel anything."

Dr. Denique froze, then beamed down at her. "...you're stable."

Leia frowned as she boarded the Millennium Falcon, Han's ship. It was old, dirty, well-worn.

She was greeted immediately by the sound of a Wookiee roaring at her, eyeing her suspiciously.

After promptly introducing her to Chewbacca, Han rolled his eyes and grabbed her by the hand, taking her to his bunk.

"So...it's just you and the walking carpet?" she asked, looking around.

"And the Falcon," Han remarked. He laid down on his bed and smiled, before sitting up and patting the seat beside him. Taking the hint, Leia sat next to him, fighting the urge to smile back.

"The Falcon's alive, you know," he said finally. "Well, sort of—we uploaded a droid's consciousness into the ship."

"Why would you do that?" Leia asked, raising an eyebrow.

Han shrugged. "She's dead useful, information and all...and you know...it felt like the appropriate way to honor her."

"...huh," Leia remarked.

"Mm," Han smiled, looking down at her.

He leaned in, closer and closer...Leia pulled away.

"Han, I can't...You don't want to be with me. I'm horrible. You deserve better."

She wasn't sure where this was coming from, but it was only now that she was speaking the words aloud that she was realizing her feelings for the first time, and tears pricked at her eyes, forcing her to turn away.

"Don't pull that with me," Han snapped. "The 'I'm not worthy' bantha fodder. You are. You are the most wonderful woman I have ever met."

"I...no—I'm not, I'm not, and I can't do this!" Leia fled from the room, trying desperately to quell all of her feelings except for her rage.


	5. Chapter 5: Perfect for You

"Hey," Han reached out and grabbed her hand, stopping her from going. Leia sucked in a breath and turned to look at him, biting her lip. He frowned, trying to work out the right words to say. "Life sucks. The galaxy sucks. This whole situation sucks."

Leia frowned. "I know that, Han, but what does that—"

"I love you," he blurted out, and Leia froze.

"What?"

He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets and pacing. "Basically, uh—what I'm saying is that everything sucks…"

"No, I think I got that," Leia snapped.

"…Everything's broken, I've known that for a long time. But…" He stopped pacing here and turned to look at her, blue eyes wide and earnest.

"It doesn't matter. Because we've got each other. I know I'm not perfect, but I can be perfect for _you_. In spite of all this…awfulness, we've got each other. We can be perfect _for each other_." He looked away from her, rubbing his head sheepishly.

Leia shook her head, turning and making for the hallway, but Han followed her.

"I'll—I'll fly you back home."

Leia managed a brief glance, giving him a choppy nod before turning away. There was an odd lump in their throat. Finally, they reached the cockpit, and Leia saw next to him in the co-pilot seat. Finally, after a few moments of slow flying, Leia spoke, "I—I'm not perfect," she murmured.

"It doesn't matter—neither am I!" Han said earnestly, turning to look at her. "But don't you get it—all this horrible stuff is gonna keep happening, no matter what, but we can be the one good thing in each other's lives."

Leia heaved in a breath. They were nearing her home—Han called for Chewie to take the controls, opening the door right on the edge of the balcony, and they walked out, opening the door so that Leia could climb out easily. She hopped down easily, hesitating, thinking. Then she whipped around. "Han?" He looked at her eagerly, awaiting her response. She allowed a wry smile to come to her lips. "I…I like that."

Han grinned, hopping down off the balcony and taking her hands. "Leia, I promise—I'll love you. I do. I love you so much. I can't fix all your problems, but I promise I won't be one, if we can just be together…"

Leia smiled brightly now. "I can be perfect for you too."

Han smiled, moving closer. "I love you, Leia."

And then, finally, their lips met in a searing, passionate kiss. Leia's heart swelled, and she pressed close to him.

When they finally broke apart, they smiled at each other and he leaned down to press his forehead to hers.

They finally snapped out of it when Han looked around nervously.

Leia smiled dazedly, still trying to recover from the sheer bliss…

"You sure your parents aren't home?"

"Yeah. They have some Imperial Ball that goes on late tonight…"

"Okay," Han said, shutting up immediately, and Leia felt a flicker of amusement run through her.

She pulled him in for another kiss, standing on tiptoe and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Padmé watched from the shadows of the apartment as she saw a sight she'd never thought she'd see...Her daughter. With a man. They'd gotten back from the Ball a little over an hour ago, and Vader had already retired to his hyperbaric chamber.

"What are you doing?"

Padmé jumped slightly. "Luke! You scared me."

Luke looked out at Leia. "Huh. Well, that's new."

"Do you think they're in love?" Padmé asked her son almost wistfully.

Luke shrugged. "How would I know?"

He walked off, and suddenly Anakin appeared in front of her, just as he'd been all those years ago.

"Don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid to die," Padmé confessed, surprised to hear the words coming out of her mouth. But if they were going, he should hear it... "I've been dying a little bit each day since you came back into my life."

Anakin froze, then looked away in an effort to contain himself. "You love me?" He whispered in wonder. He shook his head. "I thought we had decided not to fall in love. That we'd be forced to live a lie and that it would destroy our lives." He looked at her in desperation. "What are you talking about?"

"I think our lives are about to be destroyed anyway." Padmé took a breath, and then spoke the words. "I truly...deeply...love you and before we die I want you to know."

And then they leaned in as close as they could and gave each other what they expected to be the last kiss of their lives...

Padmé snapped out of her flashback bitterly as she watched her daughter and the man she'd never seen before.

"This is crazy." The words rang out loud and clear, and they struck Padmé in the heart. About...twenty?...years ago, hadn't she said the same thing?

"Maybe it is," the man smiled warmly in response, reaching down to squeeze her daughter's hand. Padmé fought the urge to laugh. Hadn't Anakin said the same, at least once?

She watched as Leia kissed her boyfriend one last time and then waved at him as he got back in his ship and flew away.

She watched as the ship flew off into the distance, watched as Leia hovered at the balcony's edge, staring at the ship as it disappeared amidst the Coruscant traffic.

The last lingering remnants of Anakin faded alongside the ship, and suddenly the familiar, hollow lack of feeling that had been her life for the past few weeks was back.

Finally, Leia turned and headed back inside the apartment. She stopped dead upon seeing Padmé standing in the doorway. She didn't even bother to look angry, just shocked and...hurt. She brushed past her mother, heading quickly back to her room.

Padmé watched as she went, desperately trying to bring back any semblance of feeling...but there was no use. She just couldn't.


	6. Chapter 6: I Miss the Mountains

Padmé sighed, sinking down into a chair, burying her face in her hands. She could remember when she'd had her life together. She'd been a Senator, elected Queen at just fourteen years old...Even despite its stresses, she would have taken that life back in a heartbeat. She'd never known how good she'd had it.

She could remember, too, how wonderful her relationship with Anakin had been back then.

Seeing Leia with her boyfriend was making her remember all of that.

Her daughter looked so impossibly happy, so wild, so free with this man.

More than anything now, Padmé wanted to talk with her daughter about him, about her life. To share, to experience the wild thrills of first love. She wanted to get to know the young woman who was turning out so very much life she had been back when she was her age.

But she couldn't feel anything. She couldn't feel anything at all like Leia could, and she missed being able to feel.

Life was incredibly dull now that she was "stable." She was being paraded out at parties that she had no care for, feeling nothing for the husband she'd fallen so desperately in love with all those years ago.

Even when she'd hated him, it'd been better than this...sense of indifference toward him, toward all of his crimes.

But now Leia was out living her life, the life Padmé yearned for.

And she was stuck here, feeling nothing.

She missed everything. She missed every sensation she'd ever had.

She missed being happy, laughing and loving Anakin.

She missed being angry, hating Darth Vader with all her heart.

And she missed the grief she'd felt, the sheer, aching hole that had been all that was left of her heart for years.

Padmé suddenly stood abruptly, the inklings of a decision beginning to form in her hazy mind.

As she made her way forward and back to her room, there was only one thought on her mind: how she missed those mountains of emotions, all the tragedy and turmoil, all the joy and agony and jubilation.

She might've had her ups and downs, but it was certainly better than all of this nothingness.

Better to live life as she had been than to live it like this, a blank puppet for a cause she wanted destroyed.

She didn't care that she was technically "better", she was tired of being empty, she was tired of not being herself anymore.

She just wanted to feel again.

She headed into her bathroom, opening the cabinet where she kept all of her medicine, the vials stacked neatly in a line on a tray. She carefully, quietly stood on tiptoe to lift the tray all the vials were on out of the cabinet, shutting the cabinet door gently behind her and setting the tray down on the counter.

She missed being in pain, she missed being happy, she missed her unflinching rage against her husband.

She frowned, biting her lip, hesitating, then took the tray of medicine off the counter and set it down on the floor next to her as she crouched before the toilet.

She'd been broken before, she knew. That was why she'd gone to see all of those medics in the first place.

Years and years of attempted treatment for her, and they'd finally found a cure, and here she was, thinking about upending it all.

But it wasn't really a cure if she couldn't feel anything, if there was only a mind-numbing haze where her emotions had used to be.

Was this stability? She'd never felt like this before, even when she'd been healthy and happy.

She knew Anakin...Vader was happy enough with her like this.

It wasn't ideal, he knew, but he'd take it over her trying on-and-off to kill him to no avail. Padmé knew she'd have to stop doing that or he'd suspect.

They could survive like this.

But it wouldn't be living.

Padmé gritted her teeth. She was doing this.

She took vial after vial, uncorking them and dumping them into the toilet, one after the other, again, and again, until there was only one left.

A vague hint of what might be triumph filled her.

She wanted her life back. She was getting it.

Maybe not the extent that she'd had it...but if she could at least feel something, anything at all, then that'd be better than blind complacency.

She missed being herself.

She sighed before taking the last one from the tray, letting her eyes flutter back and allowing herself to rest back on her haunches, and suddenly the enormity of this decision flooded her.

Her eyes shot open, and she took one look at the contents of the toilet and the final vial, then scurried back, hitting her head on the wall and wincing.

What was she doing? What was she—

No. There was no turning back. She was doing this.

And finally, fingers trembling, Padmé took the last vial, unscrewed the cork, and its contents into the toilet.

She was getting her life back.

And yet still, she hesitated before flushing, heart racing, frowning. She jumped suddenly as Luke appeared in the doorway, leaning against it and looking down at her in concern.

His bright blue eyes trailed over the empty vials on the ground, the contents of the toilet. "You sure about this, Mom?"

"You think it's a bad idea?" Padmé questioned mildly, wringing her hands.

"I think it's a great idea," he said soothingly, crouching down beside her and putting a comforting hand on her back. "I think you're brave."

"What will your father think?" She murmured to him.

He shrugged. "Nothing. If he doesn't know."

And then he reached forward and flushed the toilet, the contents swirling away into oblivion.

Then they filled the vials with water—thankfully the medicine had been clear—and put it back in her cabinet, as if nothing had happened.

The next few weeks were a beautiful, joyous, manic blur.


	7. Chapter 7: It's Gonna Be Good

Darth Vader could hardly believe it. Life was better than it had been for years, almost as good as those months early on.

Padmé seemed actually...happy. She was talking to him, even laughing occasionally. He was able to work and be off-world for a few days at a time without hearing about something horrible and having to return home. She was even making a show of it for imperial events, and not with the same vague mildness as had been before.

He guessed the medication really was working. Maybe it became better with time?

Well, for whatever reason, he was grateful. He'd had his doubts, but it really seemed like it was paying off. He felt happier than he had in years.

Maybe the problem wasn't the suit, although he was still looking into ways to get it removed. Somehow he had a feeling things would be easier in general if it were off.

One day, he came home after a day or two away to find Padmé reading on the couch, a bright smile on her face as she looked up at him.

"How are you?" He asked her, and she set down her datapad and smoothed her skirts out.

"I'm well. Come sit with me." And, heart, thumping, joyously, he took a seat next to her. For a moment they were quiet.

She bit her lip suddenly, then turned to him. "I have something to tell you."

"Yes?"

"...Leia has a boyfriend."

Whatever Vader had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. "Who?"

"I don't know," Padmé shook her head. "I saw him the other night. But I think we should invite him for dinner."

Vader frowned behind the mask, saying nothing. In truth, he wasn't fond of the idea of Leia being in relationship...

"Please, Ani?" Padmé reached out and squeezed his mechanical hand. "For me? We could do it on her birthday, it's in a few days."

...And of course he relented. How could he not?

They spent the evening talking amicably with one another as Threepio made dinner, and that was how Leia found them.

Padmé squeezed his hand again before returning to her room to wash up for dinner as Leia stood frozen, unsurprisingly confused about this newfound civility between her parents.

Vader didn't bring it up with her that evening. He thought the best thing to do would be to attempt to catch the boy—perhaps he could come at night, or follow her where she went? He would figure it out. For Padmé.

The next day was just as great as the ones before it.

Palpatine was suspicious of his cheery demeanor, but relieved of his newfound focus. Or so he thought.

Really, Darth Vader was spending most of the day thinking of Padmé, even as he completed his mission and slaughtered countless people.

He loved his wife so much.

He could hardly believe this new change, but he hoped it would never go away. He hoped they could always be like this. As close to any other family as they could be.

That night, Leia and Han flew around the city together on a speeder, laughing and talking, finding a nice diner to eat in.

Most people didn't know what she looked like thankfully, so it was nice to be able to eat in public and pretend to be normal.

Late that night, he flew her back and dropped her off on her balcony, briefly parking the speeder.

Leia smiled faintly. "See you tomorrow?"

Han smiled back. "I don't suppose there's any chance I'll get to meet your family?"

Leia gave a dry chuckle. "Definitely not."

But she froze in horror at the sound of a respirator behind her. She turned to him.

"Hello, Leia," he greeted, mask titled toward Han. "And you must be...?"

"Han, sir," Han said weakly, holding out a hand to shake. Vader took it, then cleared his throat.

"Tomorrow is Leia's birthday. We'd love for you to stay for dinner."

Leia interjected in horror, "Father, no, that's—"

Han grinned. "I'd love to come."

Leia moaned, burying her face in her hand as her father nodded. "Excellent. We'll see you then," he said stiffly before turning and walking back inside.

"See you then?" Han questioned.

Leia groaned. "Yeah. See you then. I guess."

Han pulled her close and gave her one last kiss, and she watched and waved as he mounted the speeder and headed off into the distance to find the Millennium Falcon.

She really hoped this wasn't going to be a disaster.

With a sinking feeling, Leia whipped around and headed down the hallway to her bedroom, wondering how she would possibly be able to sleep with the weight of this hanging on her shoulder.

Although she supposed it could have been worse. He could've tried to kill Han.

Leia sighed as she unbraided her hair, dressed, and climbed into bed.

Best case scenario, she was humiliated. Worst case scenario...Han ended up dead.

Han straightened his hair nervously the next day, present in his arms, before knocking on the door. A dinner with his girlfriend's family. Something that would've been terrifying under ordinary circumstances, and even more terrifying with her father being Darth Vader, and her mother being...well, the woman was the reason he was here in the first place.

He'd been paid to smuggle her out a long time ago from an unknown buyer, but the credits were immense. That was initially why he'd gotten close to Leia in the first place (and he'd told her as such)—but he'd given up on it in wake of their growing relationship. He loved her too much to take her mother from her.

But it would be interesting to meet former Senator Padmé Amidala. Especially considering how averse Leia was to talking about her.

Han's breath caught in his throat as Darth Vader answered the door. He gulped silently before smiling warily.

"Welcome," the Sith Lord said. "I don't believe I caught a name yesterday?"

"Uh, Solo," he said. "Han Solo."

"Solo..." Vader mused, looking down at him in curiosity. "The name sounds familiar."

Han was ready to slap himself. Why had he given him his real name? Well, Leia would be calling him it but...He really should've thought this through more. He just hoped Vader didn't go searching for his name...

He chuckled nervously and shrugged and the Sith Lord simply beckoned him forward into the dining room of the apartment, where a droid was setting the table.

Leia greeted him with a kiss, which Han returned hesitantly, side-eyeing Vader all the while.

"Hello!" Came a cheerful voice, and he looked up to finally see Padmé Amidala standing there, helping the droid to set the table. She greeted him with a hug. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," Han said, smiling back at her. Padmé was almost a mirror image of her daughter.

"What's your name?" She questioned him.

"Han Solo," he repeated, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice. Leia squeezed his hand comfortingly, and her mother smiled.

"Very nice to meet you," she took her seat at one end of the table, with Darth Vader at the other. Conversation throughout the meal was mostly kind and friendly, though it did carry the slight comfortable edge as Darth Vader sat there, not eating anything and chiming in occasionally, but as the dinner went on and he stopped blatantly staring at Han, even he warmed up and things were able to be almost...normal.

He found himself charmed by Padmé. She bore quite a few similarities to her daughter, and he found himself surprised that a woman so good and charming and intelligent could be married to Darth Vader.

He came to wonder how they'd even gotten Leia...

Finally, they'd finished, and Padmé smiled and took her leave. "I'm going to help Threepio," she said, disappearing into the kitchen.

There was a bit of an awkward silence left in her wake, but thankfully not as tense as before.

Leia rolled her eyes at her father before striking up another conversation with Han, and thankfully her presence was nearly enough to make forget the Sith Lord in the room nearly entirely.

...Nearly.

That is, until sounds came from the kitchen.

"Mistress Padmé, I don't think you should—"

"Oh, Threepio, relax, it'll be fine—"

"Oh, but—"

"Threepio. Please."

"Well, very well, Mistress, but I don't—"

Padmé and Threepio entered the room, each carrying a cake with twenty candles on them.

"Happy birthday!" Padmé beamed, placing her cake on one end of the table. Threepio, the droid, followed in her wake, placing the other in front of Leia.

"Two cakes?" Han joked. "Wow."

But there was no amusement in Leia's eyes. She was frozen, and her voice was very stiff when she spoke, as though the words were physically painful for her to get out. "It's not for me. It's for my twin brother."

"I didn't know you had a twin brother."

Leia gritted her teeth. "I don't."

And Han could see she was fighting to stop tears from running down her face, fists clenched.

"He died when I was just a baby."

Padmé looked up from the cake, smiling vaguely before frowning at their expressions. She'd been too lost in her own world to even hear them. "What? What is it?"

Han resisted the urge to shudder as Vader stood slowly, making his way over to his slightly frightened, very confused wife.


	8. Chapter 8: He's Not Here

Darth Vader strode over to Padmé slowly, speaking as softly as his mechanical voice would allow. How he hated this horrible mask. "He's not here," he said quietly.

When Padmé didn't react, he repeated himself, louder. "He's not here."

Padmé looked up at him now, disbelief and confusion in her brown eyes. "Love, I know you know," Vader said as tenderly as possible, cursing the mask and the respirator all the while. He had to get out of it. He had to. Maybe then she'd be better, she'd stop seeing what wasn't real…

"He's not real, Padmé. Whatever you think you've been seeing isn't there."

Padmé jerked her head away, moving closer to the cake as if trying to find some way to cling to her dead son. Vader felt his heart shatter—and he thought it couldn't break any further.

He moved forward, reaching for her hand, but his wife jerked away. Vader sighed. "Why, Padmé? Why can't you let him go?"

Padmé shook her head, covering her ears, tears running down her cheeks. As lightly as he could, Darth Vader reached out to pull them down. Padmé flinched and he dropped her immediately, and a hint of resentment flickered through him.

"Are you still grieving?" He questioned desperately. "After all these years? Padmé, he died when he was a baby. He was eight months old."

Padmé jerked away from him and almost made to leave the room, but stopped as Vader called to her. "Padmé. Please," he begged. "Just tell me why. Why won't he go away? Why do you still believe he's alive?"

He moved forward. "He's dead, Padmé."

"No…" she murmured softly, shaking her head in confusion.

Vader nodded, fighting through the pain. "He's _dead_."

Leia interrupted suddenly and Vader started. He'd almost forgotten she was still in the room. "This is fucked," she snarled, standing angrily.

"Language," Vader corrected sharply.

"Fuck this," she repeated.

She looked from him to her distraught mother, tears forming in her eyes, then wiped them away angrily and stormed out of the room. Vader jolted in surprise as Han stood slowly and made to follow her.

"It was wonderful to meet you both," he said quietly, awkwardly, then left the room.

Darth Vader sighed, moving forward toward his wife.

"What about the new meds?"

Padmé shrugged. "I flushed them."

"They were working," Vader moaned desperately. Why? Why had she done this?

"They weren't, really."

He shook his head. "We'll get a new round, we'll call Doctor Denique—"

"No," Padmé said quietly, firmly, angrily. There was a new kind of blaze in her eyes. Vader frowned behind the mask. He didn't like that look on her.

He sighed. "I know this is hard, Padmé—"

Padmé stepped forward, closer to him, a fierce new kind of anger overtaking her. "You know," she repeated. "Really? What, exactly, do you know?"

"I know you're hurting. I am, too." And suddenly, in spite of everything, in spite of his own physical strength, in spite of his adept use of the Force, despite his wife's current state, Darth Vader suddenly felt afraid. Padmé opened her mouth to speak, and he actually felt himself cowering away.


	9. Chapter 9: You Don't Know

Padmé could feel rage coursing through her, rage she hadn't felt in a long time. Here was her machine of a husband, standing here, acting as though he could possibly understand what she was going through. This man who had slaughtered children could not possibly understand the depth of her grief and anguish.

"Forgive me for presuming anything, _Lord Vader_, but you seem to be perfectly functional within that suit," she spat. "More functional than me, surely. It's hard for me to get out of bed in the mornings. Did you know that?"

Vader stood motionless, the sound of his respirator echoing throughout the room as he stared down at her. She hated that she couldn't see his face. She hated it.

She heaved a sigh. Maybe…_maybe_ she could somehow get to him, express how she felt for once. "I want to die," she stated quietly. "Every day."

He stood motionless, observing her. Padmé wanted to scream. "Every day, I don't know whether I'm actually going to take the plunge. Do you know what that feels like?"

She slammed her hands on the table, angrily. Why wouldn't he respond? "Do you know what it's like to die alive?"

No response. He just stood there, like a statue. "The world was alive," she pled with him. "The world used to be alive, and now it's dead. Life is horrible, Ani." He twitched slightly at the nickname, but didn't make a response otherwise.

The horrible respirator was the only noise in the room for a minute, and Padmé felt obligated to interrupt it.

"It's horrible," she repeated. "I'm so kriffing _terrified_. Terrified of the future, but if I think about the past, then I just…I just…" She felt tears well in her eyes and wiped them furiously away.

And he still just stood there. Doing nothing. She shook her head, staring down at the cake, wanting to break into sobs but forcing herself to swallow the lump in her throat and do nothing. Luke…Luke…She just…

She shook her head, turning her thoughts back toward her husband. She glared back at him. "You don't know," she spat. "I know you don't know. You say that's you're hurting—well, how I am I supposed to know?"

He turned away now, and he was picking up the cakes—her cakes that she'd spent hours on with Threepio in the kitchen. She followed him as he put them up, then back to the dining room as he began to clean up the silverware.

"You have no idea," she was starting to sob now. "You don't know how it makes me _feel_, Anakin! Just talk to me!"

She was screaming now, so she forced herself to lower her voice and heaved gulping breaths of air, trying to force herself to calm down.

Darth Vader, for his part, was acting either like he hadn't noticed or that he didn't care. Possibly both.

He was still picking up the plates, stacking them and putting them back in the kitchen to be cleaned later.

"Listen to me!" She begged. "Please! Just listen!"

He said nothing, mutely returning to the dining room to pick up the remainder of the silverware.

She actually felt herself growl in frustration.

"You keep telling me to let go! To forget the past, to come to terms with the present! You have no idea how that makes me feel, Ani! I can't just forget. I'm not like you, I'm not heartless," she snarled at him.

Again, _nothing. _"You don't know," she murmured quietly, shaking her head.

Maybe if she further described it. "It feels…Every day, it feels like I'm screaming but no one can hear me."

Nothing. "It feels like I'm falling over and over again and I just never hit the ground."

She cried out and moved next to him, slamming her fists on the table. "It just keeps on rushing at me, day by day by day by day…"

No. Kriffing. Response. She picked up the remainder of the silverware and brandished it at him, not caring, just wanting some kind of reaction.

"You don't know," she stated quietly. "You don't know what it's _like_."

He backed up, hands in the air, and Padmé felt her lip quiver. But she wouldn't cry. She wouldn't. "If it gets me it will kill me," she moaned. "But I don't know what I've done!"

And with that, she slammed down the silverware and backed up, sobs racking her body.

For a moment, the sound of her sobs filled the room, overpowering even the respirator. But then Darth Vader stepped forward, and Padmé watched as he finally began to speak, terror filling her as his rage seemed to reverberate throughout the room.


	10. Chapter 10: I Am the One

"What are you so afraid of, Padmé?" Vader demanded. He shook his head, uncomprehending, and hesitantly asked, "Is it me?"

He stepped forward, reaching his arms out, but she flinched away, and he shook his head in disbelief. "Can I even touch you?" Vader growled and walked to the other side of the table, unwilling to look at her, and trying to ignore the sting it felt to have her flinching away from him. Her husband, the one who loved her more than anyone.

"We've been fine for so long now." He glanced back at her. "What went wrong? What happened? Will you tell me?"

Vader spun around and stalked toward her. He kept moving even as she trembled; stride strong, but also slow and gentle. "I'm holding on, no matter what. I won't let go, Padmé."

He finally reached her and gently took hold of her, cupping her face in his hands and stooping so she'd have to look at him. "You need to know this: _I _am the one who knows you. I am the one who cares. I am the one who's always been there."

He wished he could see her without the red tint of his mask - wished he could feel her face in his hands and make her stop trembling in his grasp. Nevertheless, he pushed forward. "_I _am the one who's helped you. And if you think that I don't care about you, then you have no idea who I am."

He let go of her then, trudging angrily to the other side of the room, hurt and anger and desperation exploding all at once within him.

* * *

Padmé hesitated as her husband walked away, thinking to herself. There was so much pain, so much desperation. He was so angry with her. Reeling, she pulled out a chair and sank down.

Vader turned to her, still ranting. "Could you leave me? Would you do that to me, Padmé? Do you even care if I'm drowning too?"

But then, all of a sudden a voice called out, and Padmé turned to see Luke standing in the doorway, glaring at his father. "Hey, Dad, it's me," he called sarcastically, then a little more desperately. "Why can't you see me?"

Vader slammed his fists down on the table. "I'm hurting too, Padmé! I'm bleeding under here, I'm bruised, I'm broken just like you."

Luke walked into the room now, trying to get his father's attention. "Are you wanting all that she can't give?" He gestured to his mother, and Padmé began to breathe heavily, hyperventilating as their mirrored arguments sank in.

Luke pressed on. "Are you hurting?" He drilled his father. "I am, too. I want to get on with my life, too!"

Vader moved forward suddenly, brushing past his son to his wife, kneeling to and grasping her hand. "Tell me what to do," he begged.

"Look at me," Luke begged. Padmé shut her eyes. He wasn't real, he wasn't…he wasn't…

"Tell me who to be," Darth Vader begged again.

"Look at me!" Luke snarled, banging his hands on the table.

Padmé reached her free hand out, begging for some hint of comfort because he was gripping her hand so tightly, and he wouldn't stop shouting, and he was _just so _angry. Even when he was comforting, there was this undercurrent of anger that shook her. Anakin had always been angry, but never towards her. Never towards her. Was this even the same man that she'd married?

He repeated his mantra from earlier with even more furor, "_I _am the one who'll hold you."

"I am," Luke echoed softly, moving forward to sit gently on the table beside her.

"_I_ am the one who'll stay."

"I am." Padmé closed her eyes, willing herself not to look at the illusion, but she could feel his breath, hear his soft voice, and now he was reaching out and holding her hand comfortingly, as Anakin had once done when she was frantic, and as she'd done for him.

"I'll never leave you, Padmé," Vader was clearly doing his best imitation of softness, but the deep bass of his voice made that impossible. And as always, that horrible respirator filled the room.

She blocked it out too, tried desperately to block out Darth Vader, and finally, finally, she turned to look at her son.

She barely registered her husband saying, "_I _am the one who'll hear you."

"I am," Luke was looking down at her, smiling gently, and Padmé's heart swelled.

"You really think that I don't give a damn about you?" Vader asked in anger and disbelief, rising to stand but still looking down at her, desperately trying to get his attention.

Luke's eyes flashed and he let go of her hand, standing up as well. "You don't give a damn," he snarled.

"I know you know who I am," Vader said desperately.

And then it was just shouting, shouting, her son and her husband were shouting at each other and Padmé just wanted to drown it out.

Eventually, Vader calmed down. Luke followed. Her husband turned to her. "I'm holding on," he attempted to reassure her, but Padmé had heard enough.

"You say you hurt like me," she said slowly.

"I won't let go," Luke spoke now, sitting on the table again, looming protectively over her.

"You say that you know…" And then she reared up, standing up from where she sat and screaming, pointing a finger accusatorially at him. "You don't know!"

And that was when everything exploded. Luke stood and started shouting angrily at his father. Vader lashed out and grabbed her roughly by the arms, trying to pull her towards him.

And suddenly, Luke's words and Vader's words were one and the same, both crying out towards her. "I am the one, Padmé! I am the one who knows you! _I_ am the one who cares!" Their voices grew a bit softer and then, "I am the one who needs you."

But at the same time, Padmé shook her head, desperately trying to get away from him, but he was too strong. "I know you don't know! You say that you're hurting, but that's just not true! You have no idea how I _feel_, Anakin!"

Padmé finally got free, wrenching her arms out of his desperate grip, and shoved him as hard as he could, and though he barely stumbled, it was enough to allow her to run to her son, who stood on the other side of the room glaring at his father.

"You don't know," she shook her head sadly at him. "You don't know," she repeated, and she turned to her son.

"You just don't know who I am," he spat at his father, then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug.

* * *

Leia sighed. She was sitting on the floor with Han, trying to drown out the sounds of her parents yelling.

Han ran a hand through her hair gently, smiling sympathetically down at her.

She sighed and shook her head, moving away from him. She didn't really want to be touched right now, even though his presence was soothing.

She turned to him though, eventually. "When she gets like this, she's useless. She can't do anything."

"Has she always been like this?" Han asked her quietly, and she nodded.

"As long as I can remember, anyway. I know she was better before, but after my brother died…" She growled in frustration. "I can't even remember him. Even though he died so long ago, he's all she can think about."

"So…she thinks he's your age? That he never died?"

"Yep," Leia said.

"…That's messed up."

"You're telling me," Leia sighed and buried her head in her knees.

They were silent for a moment, and then Han said, "…do you wanna talk about it?" Leia stared at him and he shrugged. "I'm not…great with feelings or whatever, but if it helps…" he trailed off, and Leia frowned, thinking to herself.

What would she even say?

She didn't know, but it was nice to have someone who listened - who cared about how she felt.

And so, for the first time ever, she began to tell someone her side of the story. What it was like being invisible to a brother she'd never known.


	11. Chapter 11: Superboy and the Invisible

"It's like he's some imaginary hero," Leia blurted out, "and I'm not even there. Like I don't even exist." She ran a hand through her hair and exhaled, gritting her teeth and clenching her fists to avoid the tears pricking at the sides of her eyes. She should be over this by now. This was her life. She'd accepted it long ago. How could she be so weak about it still, even after all these years.

She heaved another breath and willed herself to continue, forcing her voice to steel itself the disguise the slight tremor that had started to pass through her body, "He's been dead all this time, and I've been here, but she doesn't care about me. She wants him. She never wanted me. Maybe if she hated me it would be better, but she doesn't even know I exist!" Leia threw her hands into the air and began to pace the room angrily, trying to work off years of bottled-up anger over this whole unfair situation.

"He's her hero! He's perfect! I don't even exist!" She couldn't look at Han, she couldn't, she couldn't bear to see any hint of pity in his eyes, any compassion, any understanding. She needs to live in this anger, to clutch it tight to her chest; it was all she had, it was all she could cling to in order to survive or else she'd lose herself, she'd fall into despair, become the nothingness her mother already thought she was.

"She's not there," Leia muttered to herself, clenching and unclenching her fists, turning her back to Han. She didn't know if he'd heard her or not, but she could tell from his Force signature, no matter how hard she was trying to block him out, what he was feeling.

Pity. Compassion. Love. Understanding. All the things Leia had never been allowed to experience for, either never being offered it or being actively told to push those things away.

But it was like a drug, and she didn't want to let it go. It was the most wonderful feeling in the whole world, the only thing she had to live for, the only thing nurturing her, keeping her alive, soothing her troubled soul…

But it wasn't enough. There was still this horrible pain inside her, this horrific agony from years of being ignored, from being neglected, and it was still happening. She wanted to fix it, she wanted to get rid of it forever, it hurt so bad. She would give up feeling all together if she could just get rid of the pain.

And the worst part of it all was that with the Force she could feel her mother's suffering. She could feel her pain every day as she ached for her son, for Leia's brother, for _Luke_. She could feel Padmé's indifference toward her, her anger towards her father, the sudden rush of joy whenever "Luke" showed up.

"I hate it here," Leia snarled, a sudden red mist descending over her eyes.

"I wish I could leave," she burst out desperately, angrily, suddenly whipping around to take out her anger on something, someone.

But all she saw were Han's kind blue eyes, so loving, so understanding, so concerned.

And for a moment her anger melted, subsiding to a dull ache in her chest that was overwhelmed by the positive, giddy, soft feeling sweeping through her, making her flutter internally, making her soar.

She wanted to devour it, this feeling. She wanted this euphoria to stay forever, to fill her, to feed her. She wanted to live off it, she wanted it to last forever.

But it wouldn't. Of course it wouldn't. The feeling was gone as quickly as it came, only leaving a slight warmth lingering deep within her core. It wasn't enough. Even love couldn't overwhelm this horrible pain. What could?"

The sudden change in Han's expression made her frown. He was looking up, staring warily above her head. Leia whipped around. She'd been so caught up in her own feeling that she hadn't noticed the familiar presence of her mother, standing in the door, looking gently but distantly at her.

She didn't say anything. She didn't seem to be able to. Leia felt that familiar sense of anger bubbling in her chest and began to move forward, and the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could even give them a second thought. "What are you gonna tell me?" She sneered, staring up at her mother.

Padmé said nothing, avoiding her daughter's eyes, seemingly out of some sense of shame. This was enough to make Leia explode. "You don't love me!" She shrieked. "You've never loved me! It's all about _him_! Him, him, him, him, him!"

To her horror, tears started pouring down her cheeks, hot and quick. But she didn't even bother to wipe them away, she couldn't find the willpower within her to do so. She gripped her fists tightly, digging her fingernails painfully into her palms. "Guess what, Mother?" she snarled cruelly, stepping forward so that she was right in Padmé's face. Padmé flinched unconsciously, eyes fluttering shut briefly, instinctively taking a step back.

Leia didn't care. "HE'S NOT _HERE_!" she screamed. "_I _AM HERE!"

The room was shaking with the weight of Leia's anger, her pain, her agony. Years of neglect had built to this moment, to this breaking point, and her pain showed in the sudden shaking of her furniture. Leia scarcely noticed. She had retreated into herself, into her rage, into her pain.

Padmé finally spoke up here, desperately trying to calm her daughter. "You know that's not true, Leia," she said, finally looking directly down into Leia's brown eyes, fighting through her fear of her daughter's rage that reminded her so much of her husband's.

She pushed forward. "We love you, Leia," she stated firmly. There was a glimmer of uncertainty now in those brown eyes that so resembled her own, and Padmé wanted to seize it, to nurture it, to make it grow, but that familiar dullness, that aching grief for her son held her back.

Whenever she looked at her daughter, she was reminded of Leia's twin, of the child she'd lost, Leia living the life by herself that both of them should have had. Not that she wanted Leia to be living this life-but at least she was alive. But Luke was dead. Luke was dead, and Leia surviving wouldn't change that she'd lost her child. Her son. Her little Anakin.

She fought through the sudden wave of overwhelming grief that threatened to consume, reeling slightly, closing her eyes and inhaling to steady herself. She forced herself to smile, to look into those desperate, uncertain, lonely eyes, making herself continue, "You know I love you," she said weakly.

"I love you as much as I can."

There was silence for a moment as Leia's eyes widened. She staggered slightly on her feet, and tears began pouring out of her eyes quicker than ever before.

Padmé was shocked with herself, at the words that had slipped through her traitorous lips. Horror made her mind go blank as she realized, truly, deeply, for the first time, that she meant it. She meant every word. This was the truth. This was the horrible, sickening truth.

And then pure terror coursed through as Leia's beautiful brown eyes suddenly transformed to a sickly yellow. And then a moment later, when Padmé was gasping for breath, clutching, horrified, at her throat, flashing back to that horrible moment, years ago, when her husband had the same look in his eyes, that she knew the danger she was in.

There was a flash suddenly, a crying out, "Leia!" Han was crying out, reaching out to shake Leia out of it, and in an instant Padmé felt the pressure on her throat go lax, and she collapsed to the ground, Leia falling to the floor as well. They lay panting there together for a moment, shock on Padmé's face as she gulped in air. She steeled herself, looking fearfully up into her daughter's eyes to see if they were still yellow...Thankfully, they were brown, gleaming with shock and wonder and agony and something else indecipherable Padmé couldn't quite decipher, but which sent a thrill of fear through her heart.

But as quickly as that look had come, it was gone, and Leia's face crumpled in pure pain as Padmé began to crawl pathetically away out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her.

And it was here that Leia began to wail, to sob, to give in to her grief, and Han moved in to wrap her tightly in his arms, pulling her to his chest, enveloping her with his warmth. Leia was gasping through sobs, rambling, screaming incoherent thoughts born of pure instinct. "She doesn't...she doesn't care, she doesn't care, she wants him, she doesn't want me...she...she…"

Leia hiccoughed and sobbed into Han's shoulder, snot dribbling down her nose and onto Han's jacket. If he minded, he didn't show it.

But even through the haze she couldn't deny the little thrill she'd felt for that one moment, when all of her pain had been unleashed onto her mother, when it had been oh so briefly expelled from her and replaced with a grim, sadistic satisfaction as her mother had suffered in that moment, finally knowing just exactly how Leia was feeling.

In spite of her teachings, Leia had always had difficulty accessing the Dark Side. She'd been able to make do without it thankfully, and her father had never seemed to mind what tactics she used. Or at least, she thought he didn't. She'd never really been able to get a good read on the man, but most of the time they did spend together was through training, and she thought at least there she knew him pretty well. And he had certainly tried to get her to tap into her rage, but only once had he ever pushed the matter and he'd seen where that got him and had quickly stopped trying.

Leia flexed her mechanical hand as the memory flickered in her mind, pushing it down quickly, not wanting to add to the pain and fear and agony already coursing through her veins.

But whatever mental block she had had with the Dark Side she'd now seemed to overcome...and it felt _wonderful_ and horrible all at once in a way that made her stomach squirm with a sickly beautiful combination of guilt and euphoria.

The fact that she'd liked it, that she'd _liked_ choking anyone, especially her own mother, in turn led to more pain and shame and guilt and only made her sob all the harder into Han's jacket.

She howled loudly and buried her face into Han's chest because the pain was too real, too raw, and she just wanted it all to go away.

"She's not there," she sobbed to herself. Han reached out a hand and started smoothing down her hair and rubbing her back in an effort to calm her down.

"She's not there," Leia finally repeated dully.

She looked up at Han now, and finally the tears had stopped coming from her eyes, but the lingering ones still made their way down her cheeks.

And now her gaze hardened, hardened into some horrible combination of pain and anger and guilt and euphoria into something stony, something emotionless.

"She's not there."

* * *

Padmé wrung her hands nervously together as she sat in the waiting room, the sound of her husband's respirator doing absolutely nothing to soothe her nerves.

"Are you...are you alright?" Vader was obviously trying to sound concerned, but the deep boom of his vocoder made that nearly impossible. It was only because Padmé knew him so well that she could hear any emotion at all.

She didn't like the softening in his tone though, it reminded her too much of Anakin, of how things had been, so she snapped at him, "When have I ever been alright?"

He was quiet for a moment. Then, he spoke as softly as his vocoder allowed him to, "Twenty years ago. Twenty years ago, you didn't care...Didn't care when I killed the Sand People. You loved me anyways. We were happy then."

Padmé flinched at the reminder. That really should have been her first warning sign, shouldn't it have? She spoke quietly, "I wish everyday that I had never married you. That I had recognized back then...And that's no one's fault but my own. I covered up a genocide for you. I should have known...I should have known back then…" The sudden burst of energy she'd received was gone now, and she looked away dully, shaking her head. "Our poor children."

He growled suddenly, reaching out to grip her shoulder harshly. "It's not my fault he's dead, Padmé, you know that."

Before Padmé could respond, she turned to see...She gaped. _Ahsoka_. But no. It couldn't be. Could it? A flash of panic rushed through her as she turned to look at her husband and saw that he too, had stiffened, but hadn't immediately leapt up with his lightsaber, which was odd, so…

"Lady Vader?" the togruta spoke, and Padmé's heart sank. This wasn't Ahsoka. This was just another togruta she'd never met before. The female did look remarkably like an older version of Ahsoka, and she was just around the right age as she would be too. But she wasn't her.

It was going to be incredibly hard to attend her sessions with this living reminder of her husband's padawan...and in a way, Padmé and Anakin's first child...They'd done a much better job with her than their biological children at any rate. She often wondered about the togruta's fate, hoping against all hopes that she'd escaped Order 66 and was alive somewhere, happy. Or as happy as she could be.

Padmé stood and followed the togruta medic into her office, memories of the young Ahsoka flashing through her mind all the while.

The door shut quickly behind them and the togruta sat down in a white, cushy seat, then beckoned Padmé to sit across from her.

She smiled gently at her. "Welcome, Lady Vader. I'm name is Dr. Initium, and I'll be your mind healer."

Padmé smiled faintly at her, trying all the while not to think of Ahsoka, but memories of her husband's former padawan kept surging and bringing up bittersweet feelings along with them.

"I know you don't want any medication, and usually mind healing works best with it, but it's alright, we can try it out on its own."

Padmé nodded, not really paying attention, and suddenly the togruta in the chair had transformed into Ahsoka, who was laughing and smiling at her and looking at her with such warmth in her eyes that it made Padmé's heart _ache_.

"Lady Vader?" Padmé blinked and the Dr. Initium reappeared in the chair, staring at her with a look of concern. "Are you all right?"

Padmé averted her gaze. "Call me Padmé, please," she said quietly.

Dr. Initium nodded, relaxing a bit but still watching her shrewdly.

She took out her holopad and looked back up at Padmé. "So. Where shall we begin?"

"Um…" Padmé sputtered, looking down at her hands in her lap and biting her lip hesitantly. The togruta didn't look bothered, only smiled gently at her.

"How about your history?"

Padmé cocked her head curiously. "What exactly do you know about me?"

Initium's typically unreadable eyes held a sudden glimmer of curiosity. "I know that you were once known as Padmé Amidala," she remarked, holding Padmé's gaze.

Padmé said nothing, watching her curiously.

Dr. Initium took that as her cue to continue. "Child queen of Naboo, later a Senator. And now married to Darth Vader, with a daughter, Leia Vader. Correct?"

This was more bare-bones than she'd expected. Padmé couldn't help but feel as though Initium knew more than she was saying. But she obviously wasn't going to get anything more from the mind healer, at least right now, so she nodded.

Dr. Initium scrolled almost idly through her file. Padmé felt a sudden inexplicable desire to flip through it herself but knew she'd never be allowed to, so instead she focused on Initium's reaction.

"Would you like to talk about your marriage at all?"

"No," Padmé responded sharply.

"Not yet," Initium nodded. _Not ever_, Padmé thought privately to herself, but didn't voice the thought.

Initium continued scrolling. "And your daughter?"

Unconsciously, Padmé brought her hands to her throat. "No," she said finally, honestly. Whenever she did think of Leia, it only brought her pain, even more so now after her realization and subsequent chokehold.

She paused finally and said in a mild tone of voice, "It says here you had a son?"

Padmé froze, frowning to herself at the emphasis on _had_. Son...had a son _now_. A beautiful boy, his name was Luke, secretly a member of the Rebellion, everything Anakin should be, his spitting image, her hero, he was going to free her-

"My son?" Padmé echoed faintly, finally, when she could speak again.

Initium finally looked up from the holopad and stared at her, folding her hands in her lap. "Yes, your son."

A sudden presence drove Padmé out of her reverie. Luke was standing between her and Dr. Initium, smiling down at her, all warmth and gentleness and light.

Initium's voice attempted to break through to her. "Tell me about him," she insisted.

"Why is he still around? Who is he?" And finally, the ultimate, horrible, wonderful, confusing question:

"_What is he_?"


End file.
